A Shopping Trip Now Redux

Wowwy-cool! I posted my last post from my cell phone! That rocks, though I don’t have a lot of room to write a full post. Butsoanyway… I slunk off early to go shopping (or is that slinked?), and let me tell you—it was fun! I know I said before that I needed to go shopping like I needed another hole in my head, but I…ummm…wasn’t…errr…talking about…ummm…oh, I never said that. No, really—I didn’t. You misunderstood! It wasn’t me! I was speaking metaphorically! Never did the thought occur to me! I’m being maligned by the liberal media!

Well, it works for politicians.

I went out for lunch and spooged something on the right side of my shirt because I am as graceless and clumsy as they come. It was so obvious because it was a grey shirt, so I had to decide to either forge ahead into the heart of shopping darkness looking like a dorkburgerweeniegirl, or skulk back home and change.

“To hell with that,” thought I, “I’m made of tougher stuff! There’ll be no mincing back home to change the pinafore—I must progress--or die!”

I got a few strange looks with that one; perhaps I shouldn’t have said it out loud. ;-)

So I hustled my butt down to the mall. I had to vulture around the parking lot for at least twenty minutes, but I finally found a space. The place was crowded as hell. I immediately went and bought a new shirt. Ok, so I’m not made of tougher stuff; I lied. Get over it. My new shirt is a really gorgeous purple one, with some green and grey in it. I had a lot of time to admire it as I stood in line for the bathroom to change into it. Yeah, I know—halfway through standing there, I realized I could have gone into the fitting room.

Not too bright. I know.

Ok—so then I was dressed and stuff and didn’t look like a major pig anymore. I found the coolest sparkly Givenchy dangly junk jewellery earrings that matched my new shirt, and it would’ve looked really way-cool with my hair up and a lot of eyeliner and mascara on. And high heels. And a matching sparkly choker. And I would really, really look way-cool with a new purse, too…

Then I realized I was shopping for myself. Damnit.

Ok. So I put the earrings back. I did find a pretty blouse for my mom, and I would have gotten her usual perfume, but she’s decided she likes Imari, from Avon, in the past few months, so I’ll have to go get that elsewhere. I tried to not buy the PWP Esteé Lauder had, but I failed. So I suck, maybe, but I totally blame the Bing-Bing noise they play in department stores noise for subliminally making me shop against my will.

In case you didn’t know, the Bing-Bing noise causes your brain to go all mushy, and you can’t think. The only thing that undoes the destruction of the Bing-Bing noise is the Bloodleoodleoop noise made by the credit card reader. It’s very pernicious. Swear to god—I read it in like maybe that Vance Packard book. Maybe.

Ok, so some of it I might have embellished a little.

After I did the department store shopping thing, I went out into the main part of the mall; I wanted to get a DVD for my son-friend, and I had a coupon for $10 off any purchase at Origins left over from my birthday. They have this great charcoal sludge that sucks the junk out of your skin. It rocks.
Ok; on to fugly pictures: As I was walking to Origins, I passed by the Thomas Kinkade—Painter of People That Have Never Heard of Energy Conservation store, where they sell all of his paintings. Ok, I’m exaggerating. His paintings aren’t fugly. Some of those things are pretty expensive! And, sure—he’s good. I’m not debating that. But does everyone always have to have every light in the damn house a-blazing away in the middle of the day? And it’s not even done in a way that’s surprising, or contrasting, like Magritte’s Empire of Light. Why can’t he pick one—preferably leaving the lights on inside, but lower, and the sky darker, as if it were dusk? Frankly, there’s too much light, and I can always hear my mother yelling, “doesn’t anyone know how to turn a light switch off in this house?!?” whenever I look at his paintings. I love the idea of Kinkade’s stuff; some of the scenes are amazingly beautiful (but remember, I’m a girl that loves the warm, cozy cottages kind of thing to begin with, so I’m an easy sell), and he’s raised the bar on motel art for sure. For my personal preferences, I prefer others more, but…he could suck worse. Ok, end of Ancodia’s art review.

I shopped for what felt to my feet like centuries (I was actually glad by the end of it that I didn’t buy new high heels to wear), and then I went to another mall with my sister to do the browsing for knicknacks for work-friends and acquaintance-friends stuff. I still have all of that shopping to do, because in the middle of it, we decided that we just didn’t feel like shopping anymore, so we went to leave. As I was about to pull out onto the main road, there was an accident in the mall parking lot—a car ran over a motorcycle. The driver of the motorcycle wasn’t hurt; he was going slowly enough that he actually jumped off the bike before the car rolled over it—go figure, huh? But the car also knocked him to the ground and rolled over his bike. My sister saw more of it than I did, so we stopped to see if anyone needed help, and the motorcycle rider said if we witnessed it to stay, so we did. Then there was drama—the motorcycle rider’s girlfriend showed up (they’d just been to dinner at the mall), and mall security came, and the guy in the car didn’t have a driver’s license, and so on. After the police left, we decided to be really indulgent and go to The Cheesecake Factory. We were seated next to a couple that argued—loudly—throughout the meal whether or not Rick James was dead, if Teena Marie was in the Mary Jane Girls, and if Teena Marie was actually Rick James’ daughter or his cousin, what type of couch Rick James had, and whether or not Teena Marie probably had one, too—you name it. It was just weird as hell. I mean, I have dreams that are less bizarre than their dinner conversation was. At one point, I asked my sister if she thought Appollonia’s Barcalounger could whup Vanity’s La Z Boy, and what she thought Prince might have to say about that, and can you believe the bitch gave me the “shut-up” eyes and kicked me under the table???

I’ll have to save the rest for later…I’m getting really tired. But today was fun. :-) It’s the first Black Friday I’ve gotten to shop in about five years—every other year, I’ve been working. So that was good. That was really very, very good, so Ancodia’s a happy girl today!

’night.